


Under Eorzean Skies

by Gremory



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: ARR, Au Ra, Aura - Freeform, Elezen, Final Fantasy - Freeform, Final Fantasy XIV - Freeform, Gay, Gay Male Character, Lalafell, M/M, Miqo'te, Roegadyn, Yaoi, a realm reborn, ff14 - Freeform, ffxiv - Freeform, final fantasy 14, hyur, lalafel, miqote
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 01:19:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4544640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gremory/pseuds/Gremory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gremory has finally laid the events of Heavensward to rest but a new threat is emerging in the lands of Eorzea. With a fresh romance blooming and his head full of clouds, can the Warrior of Light regain his composure and save the realm once more or will the realm crash and burn around him?</p>
<p>WARNING: Major Heavensward spoilers - this is set post-HW with character reflection on the HW events and story so please be aware if you haven't completed the expansion yet!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under Eorzean Skies

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Major Heavensward spoilers - this is set post-HW with character reflection on the HW events and story so please be aware if you haven't completed the expansion yet!

The bitter breeze of Coerthas sliced through the young couple as they walked towards a white horizon. Endless sheets of delicate frost danced to the blankets of snow that lay before them. Pale grey skies hung low over the pair, the dull glow of a winter sun illuminating the clouds softly. Gremory knew that he should have been concerned for his friend’s safety - Coerthas Central Highlands was a far cry from the warmth of the Sagoli desert and yet Raigha had travelled here just to find his old friend, to make sure he was safe after the tragedy of Ul’dah. Word had spread quicker than Gremory could have ever expected but he appreciated that the U tribe had their fingers in several Thanalan pies, so to speak. Thus was the way of survival. Gremory had been shocked to find Raigha waiting for him outside the gates of Dragonhead, wrapped up in furs and leathers, eyes wide with worry as Gremory, Alphinaud and Tataru had approached, seeking solace from the burning fallout of the Feast. After all had been settled and the party had agreed to head to Ishgard under House Fortemps. Raigha had waited patiently outside but the moment the party had left, he’d taken Gremory aside, begging for his ear and his heart to listen to reason.

The snow crunched under his High Allagan thigh boots as Gremory wrapped his red robes tighter around him in an attempt to block out some of the cold air. Slowly, he was beginning to get used to the nippy Coerthan air - he even enjoyed it from time to time. With Raigha following behind him obediently, Gremory had no idea where he was leading the taller Miqo’te - his legs had taken a mind of their own. They seemed to be heading towards Snowcloak so Snowcloak it was. He cast his crimson eyes heavensward, wondering from whence the snow came from - the sky seemed like a sheet of pretty, clear glass above them, painted white as droplets of glitter glided softly down, raining like confetti on the land.

Gremory let his mind wander again as he lowered his eyes to the horizon - Whitebrim was just up ahead; he could see the spires and fires flickering like will-o-wisps in the serene, surreal snow storm. It was comforting to have Raigha at his back once more, like the old days when they’d traversed the deserts without a care, as free as the circling birds above them soaring through the blazing air. Yet the atmosphere between the two was as heavy as Gremory’s heart. He couldn’t escape the horrors of Ul’dah - the way the Sultana had reached out to desperately before clutching her throat, the terror in her eyes as she’d dropped like a doll to the floor. Why had he just sat there, frozen to the spot, panic seeping into his bones like the very poison itself? A warrior who had stood tall in the face of all that had been thrown at him had merely shrunk into a frightened little boy in that moment. So much regret. He tried to focus on the sound of their footsteps crunching through the snow but Nanamo was haunting him. Her pretty emerald eyes had screamed at him in agony. She’d cried out to him for help. She’d even thrust a hand out for him to take. Maybe if he’d just grabbed it, she would have at least felt safe, comforted in the arms of the Warrior of Light. If he’d only tried -

“I wanted to speak to you before you leave,” Raigha’s voice met his ear suddenly, as velvety and dark as he remembered it before the calamity, before he’d left to train as an arcanist in the hopes of defending their village, only to be sidetracked by Scions and dreams of glory. The flood of memories were a welcome respite from the recurring nightmare he was living. To his surprise, Raigha stopped dead in his tracks and he felt a cold hand pressing softly on his back, between his shoulder blades. Through the fabric of his High Allagan robes of healing, he could feel Raigha’s claws digging in a little, as if he wanted to clutch at Gremory, to hold him in place, to stop him from walking away again. “Gremory, is this what you truly want?”

The smaller Miqo’te paused, lowering his gaze, black hair falling into his eyes. He didn’t even have to think about his answer.

“No,” he growled, “but this is the solemn charge of a -”

“Stop fancying yourself as a hero! You’re not the only Warrior of Light. Why does it always have to be you?”

_Because I was there, Raigha. Because I witnessed everything. Because I was the one she cried out for._

“Because Teledji Adeleji made it personal,” he lied instead. He didn’t even care about Teledji or the Braves. Alphinaud could battle those demons. All he wanted was to escape this fresh hell that his mind was creating, replaying her death over and over and over. As the snowflakes fell on his dark, thick lashes, he gave a defeated sigh and a more honest answer, “I don’t want to run anymore.”

The claws at his back retracted and he felt Raigha’s hand form a fist which pressed into his back gently.

“Then come back to Forgotten Springs with me,” his companion pleaded, “we can offer you shelter and protection. If the Braves dare to come to our sands, the rivers of their blood will boil under the Sagoli sun. This I promise you.”

“Raigha…” Gremory sighed again deeply, feeling the chilled air course through his lungs. Before he could protest, Raigha continued.

“You don’t have to keep running,” his voice began to tremble and a sharp sniff confirmed that he was fighting tears. “I won’t… I won’t let you walk away from me again.”

Gremory spun on his heel, meeting the taller Miqo’te’s gaze. Raigha was suffering the brunt of winter’s bane - his dark skin was reddened under the blanket of serene snow, breath dancing through the quiet air. His black hair hung over his green eyes as he lowered his gaze - he didn’t want Gremory to see him like this. In the seven years they had been friends, this was the first time Gremory had ever seen his eyes wet with tears. The emotion suited him - Raigha wasn’t in the habit of showing that he was vulnerable under that hardened hunter facade, the mask he wore for the tribe. A leather clad hand wiped at his eyes as Gremory noticed his fangs overlap his lip a little. He sniffed again. It was somehow comforting to see him like this - alone, afraid, upset. It reminded Gremory that it was okay to feel scared.

“You’ve come a long way, Raigha,” the white mage reached over and placed a hand on his tribesman’s shoulder, “in more ways than one. I appreciate it.”

“I’m not going back without you.” Raigha growled, the fangs biting harder on his lip. Gremory had seen him bite his lip a few times in the past and was now beginning to realise that it was a way of controlling his emotions. An ineffective way, as he was about to find out.

“I’m afraid you are.” As the words flowed from Gremory’s lips, he realised that they hurt him more than they could ever hurt his friend. Although Raigha’s emotions were reassuring, he hated this new, fresh side of him. He wanted to see that lively, hotheaded hunter without a care in the world, whom words would slide over like water off a duck’s back.

Blood began to burst from that lip as Raigha’s fangs sank a little too hard. Such a silly control mechanism could only work so much. As the blood trickled down his chin, dripping to splash innocent blossoms of colour in the snow, his eyes snapped up to meet Gremory, narrowing as they scanned over him. Everything about Gremory demanded respect, from the High Allagan healing coat he wore, to the Dreadwyrm staff strapped to his back. He’d grown from a shy, awkward arcanist stumbling through the desert into a strong young man. He’d found his forte in healing and had even been accepted by the padjals as a true white mage. He had everything he could ever have dreamed of: fame, gil, friendship, _respect_. Raigha felt his hands clench into tight fists, trembling with rage and confusion. What had happened to the old Gremory? The strange young boy who’d joined him on many hunting trips, had struggled to use a bow, had fallen off his drake and had been terrified to try riding again? This crimson eyed warrior with his fancy robes, dripping in the gold of the Dreadwyrm, black hair spiky and unkempt, ebony tattoos ripped across his cheeks like warpaint, was not the same youngster that Raigha had once known.

“Will you _ever_ be satisfied?!” he choked, tears beginning to flow freely down his dark cheeks. “You’ve done more than any of us could ever dream of. Full military rankings within all three Grand Companies, fellowship of numerous Free Companies… You downed Ultima Weapon, countless primals… You even bested the Dreadwyrm Bahamut himself! You’re known the realm over, Gremory Whitehall, and yet it’s not enough?!”

How badly he wanted to lunge at his peer, to claw him so hard that maybe, just maybe, a shard of sense would appear through the vanity. Yet he knew that Gremory would tear him apart in a heartbeat. He gazed up at the scarred older man, fascinated by how his bloody eyes almost glowed against his ashen skin. Gremory had always had an aura of mystery around him - he was the only Seeker that Raigha knew with ghostly skin and blood red eyes. Gremory’s tales of a childhood in Haukke Manor and occult workings had seemed too fantastical to be true yet when he demonstrated his ability to call forth spirits from his books, Raigha had began to realise that perhaps it wasn’t all just stories. And how verily he believed those tales now - how else could Gremory command such a powerful presence and have achieved so much? He was one among many Warriors of Light and yet he was the one who always triumphed.

Gremory’s eyes darkened with defeat as he returned Raigha’s gaze. He had hoped that in the years since the Calamity, since they’d last crossed paths, that time would have calmed the fiery, passionate young man but it would seem young Raigha, even at twenty two, had still not matured enough to realise that the role of hero was an unwelcome and unwanted boon. Truly, he had never changed. Always hot headed and quick to anger, Gremory had clashed with him countless times and like fire and ice, it seemed the cycle was doomed to continue eternally. Raigha had undeniably blossomed into a handsome young man but his head was too full of nonsense. Instead of securing himself a place amongst the U’s best hunters and earning the attention of the ladies of the tribe, here he was, stranded in Coerthas with a heart full of dreams and desperate to get his only friend back to the tribe.

Words were lost on Raigha. Gremory pouted for a moment, scanning over the tall Miqo’te - his tail hung limp between his legs, his layers of furs and leather blowing open slightly in the breeze, exposing the tattoo on his chest - the archer symbol. Raigha had long dreamed of being a full fledged archer yet the tribe had designated him to stay as a hunter-gatherer after the Calamity. The tribesmen were split into two groups - one had ventured forth and joined the archers guild in the hopes of learning new skills and ways to defend the village. The other half had to stay and resume life as usual. Gremory had been chosen to go on but rather than head to Gridania, he’d chosen to head to Limsa Lominsa upon hearing rumours of an arcanist guild. He’d hoped to better understand his affinity with grimoires. And then he’d crossed paths with Y’shtola. The rest was history - unfortunate, bloody history. He’d told Raigha of his adventures via postmoogle but with recent events, his letters had ceased and Raigha had become anxious. Thus, the youngster now stood before him, black hair sprinkled with pretty snowflakes, waiting an answer to his question.

_No_ , Gremory thought, _I will never be satisfied. Not while you can still be harmed._

Swiftly, Gremory grabbed Raigha and pulled him into him, holding him tightly in the snow. The sudden action caused Raigha’s emotions to explode - the talented young hunter’s shoulders began to quiver uncontrollably as he buried his face into Gremory’s chest. As they warmed each other with their body heat, Gremory raised his eyes heavensward once more. Someday, he had faith that his companion would understand. Maybe then he would see that the white mage was not being selfish but selfless. How he longed to return to the tribe and hunt under the beating sun but times had changed, and truly, this constant separation from his best friend meant that each day was becoming less and less enjoyable. Breathing was a chore. Waking up each morning and wondering if failure was nigh was becoming boring. Yet Gremory knew he had to keep that feigned smile spread widely on his face, else he would falter and bring the realm crashing down with him.

The breeze died slowly as they stood alone, allowing the dusk to encroach silently.

“In time you will come to understand that I love and cherish you,” he whispered, feeling Raigha’s black ears twitch under his breath. “I love and cherish each and every member of our tribe. That is why I keep fighting. You will realise this some day,” he cooed, “What you need to understand now is that I _will_ return to you all. Just not now.”

And that was how Gremory had been prepared to say his final farewells to Raigha under the Winter sun. But as he held Raigha in his arms, something caught his attention on the horizon - he watched curiously as two lone doves flew towards the ghostly sun, or so it seemed. So carefree, so close. With a sudden idea, he let go of the tall Miqo’te and stepped back, holding him firmly by the shoulders.

“Raigha, you keep begging me to follow you. Why do you not follow me?”

Raigha’s jade eyes glittered in confusion as he stared at Gremory. His dark lashes flickered a few times, and he pouted as a single snowflake fell on his nose.

“I’m a leader, not a follower, Whitehall.”

“Yet you followed me all the way out here into the frozen wastes.” Gremory smiled, enjoying the bewilderment on Raigha’s tanned face. “We haven’t seen each other since the Calamity, save for our letters. Let us make up those lost years.”

“You want…me to join you?” Raigha asked. Gremory nodded and the hunter’s confusion intensified, “but I am just a humble tribesman of the U. What could I possibly offer you?”

“I am but a humble Warrior of Light. You follow my footsteps so I should be the one to ask you: what can I possibly offer _you_?”

“You…You can offer me your strength for the good of the tribe,” Raigha tilted his head, his nose beginning to twitch from that snowflake. “I have nothing to offer you, Seeker.”

“You have everything to offer me,” Gremory explained. “The beating heart of Sagoli, the simmering sun rests in your eyes. Your companionship will be a welcome respite.”

“You have companions though.”

“They carry my burdens and share my pain. You would be a warm hearth in the bitter Winter nights. A respite from the warring seasons, the bitter path that fate had cast for me to walk.” A heartfelt laugh escaped Gremory, his smile deepening. “I travel with a Lalafell and an Elezen. A fellow Miqo’te and a Seeker no less will be welcome companionship.”

Raigha fell silent for a moment, his eyes falling to the white snow once more.

“I can offer you nothing but another mouth to feed,” his voice fell to no more than a quivering whisper in the silence, “and you know I’ll only bend your ears about Sagoli.”

“I’ve missed you though,” Gremory admitted. “How are you with a bow?”

The smallest hint of a smile touched Raigha’s lips. “As good as I ever was.”

“Then it is decided. Come to Ishgard with me. Another blade will always be welcome.”

“Bow,” Raigha corrected him with that familiar devilish grin appearing. As quickly as it had came, it faded. “The tribe need me.”

“That didn’t bother you when you left to come here, did it?”

Raigha was silent. It was true. The tribe had been the last thing on his mind when he’d heard the rumours of Gremory’s arrest and subsequent escape and the sightings in and around Coerthas. He’d travelled all this way just to ensure that his best friend was still able to smile after all that he had been through.

As the sun began to wane and the snowfall thickened, Gremory embraced his friend once more, glad that Raigha would be joining them through the giant steel gates of Ishgard.

So much had happened and so much was yet to come.

 


End file.
